


In Love and War

by WhatButAVillain



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatButAVillain/pseuds/WhatButAVillain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton has gone missing but when Director Fury finally finds him things may not be all they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Love and War

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I wrote this a while ago and posted it on FF.net and decided to move it over here. I wrote it late at night and it hasn't been beta read.

It has been a horrible several months, Nick Fury the Director of the Top Secret organization SHIELD reflects. He really did need this vacation. He looks out of the wall of windows as he pours himself a glass of scotch. This mountain retreat in the middle of nowhere is exactly what he needs, especially with Agent Hill having her orders not to contact him for anything but another alien invasion, or a resolution to his other problem. One of his agents was missing and not just an expendable grunt. One of his Avengers was missing, Hawkeye. No one had seen him in several months. He was too dedicated an agent to go off-grid like he was. Not even the Black Widow had heard from him. It was putting everyone on edge and the Director was no exception.

Fury sighs and takes a drink of his scotch and walks over to the couch set in front of the windows. He looks around the darkened room, the only light coming from the darkening sky. Seeing no threat, he lays down on the couch and places his drink on the glass coffee table next to him and closes his one good eye. He rubs the bridge of his nose and slowly moves his hand down his chest to rest above his heart. In a flash he has his gun drawn and pointed at the figure standing over him. 

“Agent Barton!” Fury exclaims recognizing the man immediately. “What are you doing here? Where have you been?” He lowers his gun slightly but doesn’t put it away. He tries to sit up but Barton’s hand on his chest stops him. “Barton?”

“I had to get away for a while. I needed to figure out what I wanted.” Barton answers quietly. He stares at Fury, meeting his gaze without feeling.

“Barton? Has something happened? Is it Loki?” Fury stills, confused and wary of his once-brainwashed agent.

Barton’s brow furrows. “Loki? Did he escape?”

“It seems Asgard didn’t imprison him. We haven’t heard anything for several months. About the time you left.” Fury replies trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. He doesn’t know what is going on with his agent but does not want to antagonize him.

Barton just nods, his hand is still on Fury’s chest and his thumb starts to stroke the flesh beneath the light material. Barton’s eyes travel over the Director’s body taking in his more casual dress, a black t-shirt and dark wash jeans with a leather jacket over the whole thing.

“Barton? Would you mind telling me what happened that you dropped off-grid like that? We have been looking for you for three months.” Fury says breaking Barton’s gaze and drawing his eyes back to the Director’s face.

“I had to think and I couldn’t do that surrounded by all of you. I needed space to figure out what I want.” Barton replies quietly. 

“And what do you want?” Fury asks quietly. “You could have said you needed a vacation and we would have found you a place.”

“I know. I didn’t want a SHIELD house. They’re all wired.” Barton says sitting down on the coffee table across from Fury’s hip. Barton’s hand doesn’t leave Fury’s chest.

“Barton, I think you should return to the tower.”

“I don’t want to.” Barton interrupts.

“You want to leave the Avengers?” Fury asks surprised.

“No. I just don’t want to go back to the tower right now. Do you not trust me? I wouldn’t blame you.” Barton asks placing his other hand gently on the barrel of the gun in Fury’s hand. “You still think I’m being controlled by Loki, don’t you?” Barton’s voice is soft, sad.

“I don’t know what is going on here, Barton.”

“We’re not at HQ, Nick.” Fury’s eyebrow arches at the first name. “Call me Clint.”

“Clint,” Fury says hesitantly. “What is this about?”

“I wanted to talk to you, in private. I’m glad you came on vacation. You’ve been stressed lately.”

“Well, I’m glad you approve.” Fury says wryly, growing more comfortable than he is willing to admit with his agent’s hand on his chest while he lays prone on the couch.

“You chose a good spot. The mountains are beautiful and secluded.” Clint looks out at the valley below them. He can’t even see any other houses on the surrounding mountains, nothing but trees and rivers. He could nest here. He looks back at Nick.

“Clint. You are not making any sense. You disappear for three months without a word saying you need to think. Now you break into my home and hold me down on the couch and won’t answer questions. What do you want?” Fury asks as gently as he knows how.

Instead of answering, Clint moves in closer to the Director. Nick pulls back until his head hits the couch arm. Clint pauses just in front of his face and meets his one eye. Closing the gap, Clint presses his lips to his Director’s. The kiss is chaste, feather-light but there is a sense of urgency and barely contained passion to it as well. Fury freezes as Hawkeye kisses him, his eye wide. Clint’s hand covers his on the gun that is now being pressed into Clint’s chest. Nick realizes his finger is on the trigger pressed into his agent’s chest and quickly relaxes his finger and moves his grip. Clint takes the gun from Nick’s lax hand and moves it to the table, next to the scotch still sitting there. Clint moves to sit on the edge of the couch, next to Fury’s hip without breaking the kiss. He sits up slightly pulling away from Fury’s frozen mouth.

“Barton,” Fury begins but Clint presses a finger of the hand not holding his Director down to his lips.

“Clint, please,” he whispers.

“What is this?”

“I would have thought that was obvious. I’ve kind of wanted you for a while now, Director. That’s why I had to get away, from you. I shouldn’t want my Director like this. It goes against everything, everything we are taught. Should I be running for my life?” he asks quietly, his hand not on Fury’s chest comes up to brush the right side of Nick’s face. He gently circles the eyepatch covering his Director’s bad eye. This was a strong man who had more than once looked death in the face. What would it be like to let him take control and clean up the mess? 

Nick is still frozen where he sits. He thinks over everything he’d been feeling since learning that the agent had disappeared, anger, sadness, worry, desperation. He shakes his head. “No you shouldn’t be running for your life.”

Clint looks up at him. “Then can I kiss you again?” he asks hopefully.

Nick pauses a moment, wondering just how much trouble he will be in; how damned it would make him to say yes; if he can say no. Seeing the guarded expression in Clint’s eyes he slowly nods his head once. Clint moves in again slowly, not wanting to scare the Director into changing his mind. The kiss is harder this time, firmer but still chaste until Nick raises his hand to grip the back of Clint’s head and pull him closer. Nick opens his mouth and Clint takes the invitation to invade the soft mouth below him. The Director tastes like cinnamon and scotch, it is a taste he could learn to love. Kissing Nick Fury is different than he imagined. The man is all hard lines and tough skin and rules and regulations but his mouth is soft and his lips are pliant. And there is the tough man he expected as their teeth clack together. Nick tries to rise up and get closer to his Hawk but Clint keeps him down. He breaks the kiss and moves to straddle the prone man.

Clint dips his head again and claims the Director’s mouth once again, the passion that had been barely controlled came out in full force as Nick suspected. There is a desperation in Clint that Nick cannot understand but he gives in, letting his Hawk control the situation. There would be time for him to be in control, Clint needed this more than Nick did. Clint’s hand moves from off the Director’s chest and down, dipping below his shirt. Nick jumps at the touch of Clint’s bare hand against his flesh. Clint pulls back and sighs, he moves to the side of Fury’s neck kissing and sucking and nipping at the skin there as his hand continues its journey up. His other hand goes under the jacket to the guns hidden on the Director’s body fingering the clasps and moving on. Clint’s fingers under the shirt brush Nick’s nipple causing it to pebble and Nick arches into the touch with a small cry. Clint smirks and his other hand moves to tease Nick’s other nipple through the rough fabric. Clint moves up to kiss Fury again as he rubs against him, their hardening cocks rubbing against each other through their pants. After several frantic moments, Clint slows down. His hand not under Fury’s shirt moves to the button of the Director’s jeans. Clint stops, brushes over the button softly, and meets Nick’s eye, silently asking if it’s ok; how far can they go. Nick moves one hand on top of Clint’s and nods running his hand up Clint’s arm and wrapping around his thigh. Clint lets the button slide out of the clasp and slowly lowers the zipper, the slide of the zipper sounding obscene and overbearing in the relative quiet of their heaving breaths. Clint’s hand delves under the hem and grips at Nick’s erection. Fury gasps and arches up seeking friction with the hand around him. 

“Clint,” Fury gasps and claws at Clint’s legs holding on as Barton’s thumb brushes the slit of his cock. 

“How far can we go, Director? I want to feel this in me.” Clint whispers giving the member in his hand a strong stroke from base to tip. 

“Yes,” Nick hisses, his hands grabbing at Clint’s arms. Clint lets go and sits up. He leans back onto Nick’s thighs and watches the Director panting, trying to catch his breath. Clint’s hand travels across Nick’s shoulder and to the back of his neck. He lifts Nick up and kisses him again as he helps Nick out of the jacket. Once the jacket has been removed, Clint grabs it and sets it on the table next to the gun and scotch. He eyes the scotch with interest and dips his right forefinger into the liquid and swirls the ice around before moving his hand to Nick’s face. Nick eyes the proffered finger for a moment and almost stops but then obediently opens his mouth and takes the digit into his mouth. He sighs at the taste of the scotch on Clint’s skin and twirls his tongue around the appendage. Clint removes his finger and leans to kiss Nick once more, his hands going to the hem of the Director’s pants and pulling them down. Nick lifts his hips to help as his pants are pulled down to his ankles. He doesn’t bother to kick them the rest of the way off and risk dislodging his Agent. Clint takes a moment to appreciate the deep brown color of the cock in front of him. He eyes the thick erection, slightly longer than his own, and uses his left thumb to swipe the drop of precome off the tip and brings it to his mouth.

Nick’s hands move to Clint’s pants and undo the belt and button pulling down Clint’s pants to his knees. Clint’s cock is at attention a swollen red and a perfect mushroom head. Nick just stares before his hands run up Clint’s thighs and tangle in the coarse hair at the base of Clint’s cock. Clint moans and dips his right middle finger into the scotch on the table again swirling the contents and brings the digit to Nick’s mouth. Nick takes the digit unhesitatingly, sucking and licking in mimicry of what he would like to do to his Agent’s dick. His hands lift Clint’s shirt throwing it to the ground under the coffee table and his hands travel exploring the toned chest and muscular arms that are so used to holding back the tension on his weapon of choice, the compound bow. “Hawkeye,” Nick sighs as the finger is removed. Clint shudders as the roughness in his Director’s voice. He reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls out a small bottle of lube. 

Nick raises his brow. “I was hoping you’d be willing.” Clint tells him in answer to the unspoken question. “I also like to be prepared. Spying and such.” Nick just smiles. 

Clint squeezes some slick onto his left hand and reaches behind him. Sitting up to allow Nick to see what he is doing he slips his first two fingers into his own puckered entrance. He lets out a low moan and sinks down onto the fingers up to the knuckle. He begins to scissor them and pump them drawing a groan from Nick as he watches the digits sink into Clint’s willing body. “Gods, Clint, How often have you done that before?” Nick groans.

“Whenever I thought of you over the past six years.” Clint answers, moaning when he brushes his prostate.

“Six years?” Nick asks incredulously. 

“Yeah. I thought I could handle it until Thor and Tony and Steve and Bruce kept insinuating that Nat and I were together or should be. I don’t want her. I want you.” Clint tells him, adding another slick finger. His right hand runs under the hem of Nick’s shirt pulling it up to gather under his arms, trapped by the gun holster he is wearing under his jacket. His hand ghosts over the clasps of the holsters and move onto the heated flesh of Nick’s chest. He runs his hand over Nick’s pebbled nipples, pinching them lightly. His hand comes to rest over Nick’s heart. Nick is mesmerized with the sight of the fingers disappearing into his subordinates body. Clint pulls his fingers out and adds some more lube to his hand and wraps it around Fury’s leaking cock. Fury moans as his head falls back and he thrusts up into the hand gripping him. “Nick?” Clint asks.

Nick meets his eyes and nods, taking hold of Clint’s hips in his large hands. Clint holds Nick’s cock still as he slowly lowers himself down on it. Inch by agonizing inch takes all of both of their control to not rush it. Once Clint is seated on Fury’s lap he pauses and leans forward to kiss Nick. “You’re so tight, Clint. You feel good.” Nick tells him as he sits back up.

Clint’s right ring-finger finds its way to the scotch glass and back to Nick’s lips. Nick takes it in as Clint begins to move and teases the digit with his tongue and nibbles on the tip. Clint lifts himself slowly up until only the head is inside his body and slams back down. He keeps moving and Nick’s hands help guide him and keep up a grueling pace. Clint shifts angles until Nick’s cock brushes across his prostate and he cries out maintaining that angle so the large cock in his ass hits over and over. 

Nick moans at the faces Clint is making as his agent’s gland is stimulated on each thrust. He readjusts his feet and begins to thrust up into Clint as he pulls him down, impaling him on his dick. Clint falls forward and presses a sloppy kiss at the corner of Nick’s mouth and reaches down to grip his own erection. He moves the hand quickly and braces himself on the arm of the couch with his left hand. His right moves to dip his pinkie into the still cold alcohol. Nick takes the offered digit as one of his hands moves to stroke Clint. Clint grunts at the calloused hands wrapped around his dick, so different from his own calluses. He looks down to watch and groans at the sight of the large black hand moving across his own pale flesh. 

“Come on, Clint. I want you to come for me. I want to feel your ass squeezing my cock, milking it.” Nick grunts out holding off his own orgasm. Clint comes with a cry, his white seed shooting over Nick’s exposed chest and abs. Feeling Clint’s muscles clenching around his cock as he pounds into the willing ass has Nick crying out his own orgasm and he keeps thrusting trying to drag out the pleasure as long as he can. 

As they both finally stop, Clint collapses onto Nick’s chest, his seed being squished between them. Nick’s softening cock slowly slips out of Clint and they both let out a quiet moan at the loss. Nick’s arms come up to wrap around him. Nick presses a kiss into Clint’s hair. “I love you, Clint. Thank you for that.” Nick whispers into his hair. 

Clint blinks. “I wasn’t expecting that.” He says sitting up marginally. “I like it. I love you too, Nick.” He responds smiling and settles back against Nick’s chest. His right hand goes to the scotch glass his thumb rubbing gently along the rim of the glass. “Would you love me like this back at Headquarters when I’m Agent Barton again?” He asks quietly, his smile disappearing. 

Nick watches the finger running around the edge of his glass, silently. “Yeah, I would love you like this at Headquarters. And Avengers Tower.” He reaches out to grab Clint’s right hand and brings it to his face. Clint sits up and his eyes are red and wet. “It’s this one, right?” Nick asks gently, tapping Clint’s thumb.  
Clint nods silently. Nick nods too and brings it to his mouth. “Stop,” Clint whimpers as his thumb disappears into the moist cavern of his Director’s soft mouth. 

Fury swirls his tongue around the digit in his mouth getting all the poison off that he can. He slowly takes the thumb out of his mouth.

“You knew the whole time?” Clint asks. 

“Yes. I trust you, Clint. There has to be a reason you would come here to poison me.” Fury answers quietly. Clint moves in to kiss Fury but Fury turns his head away. “There’s still enough poison in my mouth and on my lips to kill you, Clint.” Fury says. 

“I know.”

“Don’t, Clint. I want you to go back to the tower and stop whatever made you do this.” Fury tells him forcefully. Clint moves back down to hug Fury. The Director’s arms growing heavy around him as the poison paralyzes his body. “Who did it, Clint? Who brought you to me like this?”

“Does it matter?” Clint asks softly.

“No I suppose it doesn’t.” Nick says quietly, a pause, “I forgive you.”

“Awww. How cute,” a voice remarks from near the windows. 

“Loki,” Clint growls and sits up pulling up his pants as he stands protectively in front of Nick’s mostly paralyzed form. Loki is dressed in his Midgardian attire. A long trenchcoat and a scarf almost as long as his body. He has left his newest staff at wherever he is staying on Midgard and has nothing in his hands, however that hardly means he is weaponless.

“Yes, that’s me. I can’t believe you, my little Hawk. No wonder you did so well on my team. You’re cold hearted even on your own.” Loki remarks eyeing the Director and the glass of scotch. Clint’s eyes narrow. “Step aside, Hawk.” Loki says taking a step forward. Clint doesn’t move. “Really now? You’re the one who poisoned him while you were fucking him. What more harm could I do?” Loki asks. Clint reluctantly steps to the end of the couch, at Nick’s head. 

“What are you doing here, Loki?” Fury gasps out, the paralysis moving from his hands and feet into his upper arms and thighs.

“I am here to save your life, Director. Aren’t you happy? You’re going to be indebted to me.” Loki purrs. “I promise not to abuse it too much.” He leans down into Fury’s face. “Pinkie promise. You’re not going to like this,” Loki says moving his eyes up to meet Clint’s gaze, “but it will save his life and you do want that, don’t you?” Clint nods, his hands curling into fists against the desire to punch the God. Loki smiles and leans down and kisses Nick forcefully, opening Nick’s mouth and pulling back a fraction of an inch. Clint can see fluid moving from Nick’s mouth and being pulled up into Loki’s. As the stream stops, Loki stands back up. “That should take care of that. The poison that his body has already absorbed I cannot take. However, it will fade in a couple of hours. Until then you’re going to be mostly paralyzed.” Loki starts to walk away. 

“Loki,” Nick says tilting his head up. 

“Make no mistake, Director Fury. I hate SHIELD and the Avengers but I have had enough of Thor calling me to accuse me of stealing his comrade. Also, I do want you and the Avengers dead but it will be by my hand, how I want it and when I decide. I will not allow someone else, some human, to usurp my right to destroy you. I will see you around, Director, Little Hawk.” Loki says as he fades out.

“Clint,” Nick says looking over to his agent after the God is gone. “Can you get my phone out of my jacket and call Agent Hill. I want to talk to her.” Clint does as he is asked. He holds the phone to Nick’s ear as he sits down on the side of the couch, his pants falling open. Nick eyes the trail of hair leading under the hem of his pants. 

“Director, is something wrong? You left instructions not to disturb you. You’re not coming back already?” Agent Hill greets hesitant and confused.

“No, Agent Hill, there is no problem. I want you to call the Avengers and tell them that I have found Hawkeye. I will bring him back with me. Also delete the footage of the last hour from the SHIELD house I am at. Do not watch it.” He orders.

“Yes, Sir.” Hill says and Fury hangs up after telling her he will see her in a week. 

“Clint,” he says after the Agent puts the phone onto the table. Clint reluctantly looks up into His Director’s eye. “I still don’t blame you. I can’t move my arms yet but I would like to hold you again.” Clint nods and leans down wrapping Nick’s arms around him again and laying on his chest. “I’m not going to turn you in either. We’ll just say you wanted a SHIELD free vacation.”

“I love you, Nick.” Clint says quietly in response.

Nick presses a kiss to Clint’s head. “I love you, too. And I promise to love you like this back at SHIELD too. I’m going to sleep off the paralysis. When we wake up, we should shower and move to the bed. I hear it’s a big one.”

Clint chuckles softly, still worried about the people who ordered him to kill the Director and about SHIELD and the Avengers’ reactions but for the moment, he would just sleep and let Nick take care of it when they woke up. They had a week to form a plan. The last image he had before he fell asleep was of himself wrapped in his Director’s arms imposed over the most beautiful site for a Hawk’s nest he had ever seen. He could always fly away.

**Author's Note:**

> The method that Clint uses is of my own design. The premise is that there is a different chemical dried on each finger that are harmless on their own and even together until the last one is added. I don't know where I came up with it and that is all the information that I have on it at this point.


End file.
